Page 28 of Dead Boys Club

Zach is starting to get an idea of how most conversations go in the Reid house. Listening to Mr. Reid talk is like being steered in a direction you don’t really want to go, but there’s no right answer other than the one he’s already decided on.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders dropping. Zach wants to tell her that tech crew is really cool and that she’s probably going to have a lot of fun, but he can’t get the words out. His stomach hurts just thinking about trying to stand up to Mr. Reid.

“God, can you be nice to her for five minutes?” Parker interjects. The outburst is quiet, but also incredibly loud. Zach’s breath catches in his lungs.

“How is telling her that she’s talented ‘not nice’?” Mr. Reid asks. His tone feels like a trap. He’s put his fork down and has his fingers steepled together under his chin.

“Parker,” Mrs. Reid says again. “Henry, please. Just drop it, you two. Don’t get into another one of your arguments tonight. We have guests.”

“Parker, don’t,” Paige mutters. Her hand tightens around his wrist.

“No, no, go on,” Mr. Reid says calmly.

Parker looks like he’s boiling over. Zach wants to die. He hates this. He wants the earth to swallow him up. When he looks between Isaac and Bea for help, both of them are looking back, brown faces paling.

“She told you something she was excited about!” Parker yells, his voice almost shrill. “She wants to do tech! I bet she’s gonna be good at it! So just say, ‘Wow, Paige, that’s so cool, hope you have fun doing tech!’ Jesus fucking Christ. Does every single conversation have to be about how we’re not doing things up to your impossibly high standards?”

The silence following Parker’s outburst is like a vacuum. Zach’s vision tunnels, his breath coming quick and hard. One of Bea’s small, cool hands suddenly slides against his own. Her thumb presses against his knuckles. He focuses on that, trying to ground himself again.

“Mrs. Reid, it was so—it was so nice of you to make us dinner,” Bea says, maybe a little too fast, her voice far too faint and small to fill the quiet. Zach can barely hear it over the blood roaring in his own ears. “It was so nice. But we have homework, right, Zach, Isaac? So, we should really be going. It was so nice of you—”

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Reid says softly as she stands.

“No, it’s okay—Isaac, can you…?”

“Yeah.” Isaac and Bea stand, their chairs scraping on the floor. Zach is trapped. Glued to his seat, swallowed up by knowing too much and not being able to say anything. He should say something.

“Zach,” Isaac says, shaking his shoulder. “Come on.”

“I’ll take him,” Parker says, suddenly. “Bea lives in the other direction.”

“We’re neighbors,” Isaac reminds him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mr. Reid erupts, his voice loud and open, one finger pointing at Parker. His voice fills up the room, fills up Zach’s head, making his temples pulse.

“Paige, give me your keys,” Parker says, ignoring his father.

“Stop, shut up,” Paige says, scrubbing her hands across her face. “I’ll go, I’ll take him, let’s just—let’s go, please.”

Mrs. Reid follows them to the door, apologizing quietly to Zach, Isaac, and Bea. She does not, Zach notes, apologize to her own children. Zach feels like he might cry, his throat tight, his heart racing. He’s so overwhelmed that he forgets to grab his backpack from Isaac’s car before getting into Paige’s. It doesn’t make any sense for Parker and Paige to drive him home—they should take Bea, instead—but he doesn’t have the willpower to point it out.

The tension is a piano wire around Zach’s neck as he sits stiffly in the backseat, trying to remember one of the million breathing exercises that he’s learned over the years. Is it in for a count of seven, or out for a count of seven? Zach’s lungs hurt after a count of five.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Paige says to Parker as she pulls out of the driveway. She nearly clips a car parked on the street. “Why do you always have to antagonize him?”

Zach is sitting behind the driver’s side. He can see Parker in profile as Paige recklessly whips the car around in the direction of Zach’s neighborhood. Parker’s face looks almost gray now, all the blood drained from his cheeks. Zach lurches from side-to-side, pressing his hands into his lap. His head feels like it’s full of wasps, his stomach churning. He could vomit. Or shit himself. Both are equally likely.

“He’s a piece of shit,” Parker says fiercely. Neither of the Reid twins seem to be aware of Zach’s wheezing in the back seat.

“Everything is always about you!” Paige rages, her voice filled with tears. “God, we can’t even have a nice dinner because of you! Every fight this family has is about you; why do you have to ruin everything?”

Zach is watching even though he doesn’t want to—he’s watching Parker look at Paige, the way his face is scrunching up, crumbling, like he’s dying to say something real. Zach squeezes his eyes shut, leaning forward, his head in his hands.

“They’re lying to you,” Parker says, finally, like he’s ripping open a wound.

“Oh, god,” Zach gasps. He can’t do this. He can’t be here for this. This should be private, between Parker and Paige—and probably their parents too.

“Is he okay back there?” Paige asks, as if only now remembering Zach. Her voice is confused and wobbly, like she’s about to cry.